


Special

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Fluff, M/M, Violence, powers, sci fi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Your name is Elliot Ardwyn, you're nineteen years old and you're special in a sense. You have an uncanny six sense, and can tell when something bad's going to happen  before it happens, and that feeling's been screaming at you since you found out your grandparents enrolled you into a university for the gifted. You've read enough Marvel comics to know that some serious shit is going to happen without your abilities having to scream at you to run.</i>
  <br/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are original and mine.

It was the big day for you, and you couldn't resent it more. You feel like your head's going to explode, and as you roll out of bed into the pile of legos your little brother left on the floor to help you wake up with, you couldn't help to sink into that horrible sense of dread. You sat up with a jolt, little plastic pieces falling from your bare skin. Your ready to smash the shit out of your alarm clock, which was a hand-me-up from your 10 year old brother and played the mickey mouse parade song on repeat.  
“God dammit,” you grumbled under your breath, the rings under your eyes feeling like weights. You had spent all night on the internet researching the place you'd be for the next four years of your miserable existence, which wouldn't help with the plane ride over. Who the fuck builds a college in rural Alaska? You could hear your brother jumping out of bed, his footsteps speeding up as they neared your room. Daniel burst through the door, tears in those big, brown eyes of his, and buried jumped into your arms, knocking you back into that horrible lego pile. You bit back your mouthful of curses as you cradled your sobbing little brother. You two had always been close, and you would undoubtedly miss him.  
“You'll call me every day, right Elliot?” he begged as you loaded your bags into the trunk of your mom's car.  
“If they have service,” you replied, smiling slightly. “You might have to deal with post cards. You know, if you ever learn to read.”  
You could hear him stomp his foot in frustration.  
“I can read, doofus!” he proclaimed. You turned, noticing his face scrunching up again. He was going to cry again, dammit. This whole situation was a pain in the ass. You scooped the younger boy up into your arms, patting his back gently.  
“Chill out dork,” you say in a half assed attempt to get him to stop before he starts. “I know you can read.”  
“I don't want you to go,” he wailed into your shoulder, an onslaught of nasty sobs wracking his small frame. You sighed, setting him back down, getting on your knees in front of him and stared him straight in the eye.  
“I got a big job for you little dude,” you said in a low, hushed voice, trying to be serious as possible. His eyes widened and he immediately quelled, listening intently to your instructions. “You gotta be serious about this.”  
Daniel nodded furiously, his face turning solemn, as he straightened up to a soldier's stance, and you laughed.  
“Not that serious though.”  
He relaxed.  
“What do you need me to do?” he asked, growing impatient. You lean in close to his ear.  
“Grandpa's the one who practically forced me into this stupid school,” you whispered into his ear, “and I need you to give him hell while I'm there, okay?”  
He nodded vigorously, standing back up straight and saluting you. He'd make a great soldier if he weren't so emotional.  
“Good, Danny. I expect you to send me records of your actions. They'll have to be in post card form. Mom can't overhear.”  
Your little brother nodded, and you hugged him in return.  
“I love you brother,” he whispered. “be good.”  
You smiled and ruffled his hair.  
“I will,” you respond. “Maybe when I get home, I'll actually be able to see into the fucking future.”  
Your mother whacks you in the back of the head.  
“Stop swearing in front of your brother!”  
You could hear distress in her voice, and you knew she was upset about your departure too. You rubbed the back of your head and mumbled a small apology before hauling the rest of your shit into her trunk. You were soon sandwiched in the back seat between your brother and your grandfather, your mother the only one in the front seat. She had to pull over every few miles to sob about her baby leaving and finding a hussy and whatever while your grandad rambled on about your dad and how he could have benefited from the college if he weren't six feet under, and you covered your little brothers ears. He never really had the chance to meet your dad, and that upset him. To your understanding, your father had along the lines of the same abilities you did. He could read minds, and that's how he found out about all his surprise parties, that was something that always stuck out in your memory. He would always play along, but he always told you afterward that he could see it coming. He was hit by a drunk driver on the way to the hospital when your little brother was being born, and that was when your grandfather moved in and started stinking up the place. You sigh, staring out the window at the sight of planes running off the runway, taking to the skies like birds, and you were almost relieved to be on one of those yourself. It would be like a four year vacation from your asshole grandad.

The plane ride over was hell in itself. You were crammed in between a fat guy and a mom with a screaming baby who didn't really seem to hear the little jukebox of wails and discomfort. Four and a half hours of this and you were finally home free. You were greeted by a man wearing a heavy coat and a pair of goggles, a wild grin on his face.  
“You Elli Ardwyn?” the man asked you. He seemed to talk with his teeth and gut instinct told you to bail.  
“Elliot,” you mumbled, and he motioned you to follow him out to a dinky little plane. Wonderful. The ground was covered in a foot of snow and you thought your toes were going to fall off, which made it a bit of a relief to get into the plane. That feeling of relief washed away when the stranger got into the drivers seat, booting up the propellers before you could even finish buckling up. You were in silent terror the entire plane ride, the man having an affinity for aerial tricks, loop-de-loops mostly, and he laughed a wild laugh whenever he turned back to see your horrified expression.  
“You okay there Edwyn?”  
“It's Elliot!” you yell over the roar of the propellers.  
“We're almost there Ellen!”  
God.  
Fucking.  
Dammit.  
The plane loses altitude, and you feel like it's another stupid trick until your heads starts pounding with a sense of critical danger. You reach forward, jostling the pilot's shoulder, and he slumps back, limp. Your pilot's dead and you're about to crash in the middle of the icy, deadly wilderness of nowhere Alaska. You want to scream but you're mute in your shock. You do what your instinct screams for you to do and you unbuckle, crawling into the dead guys lap, pushing him back in the back seat. You pushed buttons and tried your hardest to pull the plane back up into the air when a voice came over the radio. You quickly picked it up, almost shouting your dilemma over the speaker. There's a hesitance over on the other side as you assume they're trying to process the fact that they hired a really shitty pilot. Suddenly your plane picks back up, gaining altitude again.  
“Fucking idiot,” you heard, the voice on the end, now exasperated, murmur. “You didn't throw the pilot out did you? Over.”  
“He's in the backseat. Over.”  
“Is he buckled up? Over.”  
“No. Over.”  
The man's voice sighed.  
“Yeah, you need to do that. Over.”  
You turned around to buckle the body, and a scream caught in your throat. The pilot was already buckling himself up, that same grin replastered on his face.  
“You're doin' great Evan!” he shouted, giving you a thumbs up, and that was about the time you blacked out. 

You awoke in an infirmary bed, an ice pack on your forehead. There was a tall man with different colored eyes and shaggy, short black hair reading a book at your bedside. You started to sit up, dizzy, and you felt like you were going to vomit.  
“Oh, you're awake,” he spoke. You recognized his voice as the one over the radio. “How are you feeling?” He bookmarked his book and looked you in the eye, and you saw that one eye was an icy blue and the other was hazel and something about that struck you speechless. He seemed so serious and you thought if he smiled his face would crack in a million little pieces.  
“I'm fine,” you said after what seemed like hours of awkward silence. “What the hell was that?”  
You felt you had the right to curse, especially with your current situation, and the man didn't seem to give two shits.  
“Your pilot's an asshole. I requested for a jeep to be sent to you but they insisted they sent you a plane instead.” He uncrossed his legs, tossing his book onto the side table and folded his hands in his lap. “His names Opossum and I advise you to stay far, far away from him if you want to stay sane.”  
You nodded slowly. That was going to be your intent anyway.  
“My names Simon Holly, I'm your mentor and your 'den father'. If you have any problems you come to me.”  
He was unenthusiastic and you could care less. You didn't want to be here and you certainly didn't feel like being part of the boy scouts. That part of your life had already passed by and you didn't feel like reliving it. He gave you a cockeyed look and that's when you realized you were still staring at his eyes. You quickly looked away, eyes darting around the room in a conspicuous manner. Good going dipshit.  
“I have hetero chromatic irises.” he sighed, letting you know he had gotten the stare by more than just you. “Trust me, there's a lot more mutations than that. If you're going to stare, learn not to be obvious with it.”  
You nodded, taking a mental note before you realized you were staring again.  
He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“So what kind of name's Ardwyn anyway. I mean I know it's Irish, what does it mean though?”  
“Means on a hill.”  
“Kinda stupid.”  
“Yeah, I know.”  
And with that, you vomited into your lap, and he laughed.  
You hated it here already.


	2. Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You've finally settled into your dorm, and to your luck, you room alone. So far you've made zero friends and your staring has gotten you into some close calls already. Your classes are boring and mostly consist in the subjects you would attend if you were going to a normal college, aside from the one you found yourself looking forward to every Friday. Your schedule goes like this: Mondays and Thrusdays you have Math 103, which consists of basic algebra, and you're already failing that. Tuesdays you have English 1, and you're doing surprisingly well. Wednesday you have your art class, and you get the strangest feeling your teacher spends most of her time smoking dope. Your Friday class is your favorite. It's your longest and it's the one you get to develop your abilities with relaxing music and surprisingly intriguing lectures from your assigned mentor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Elliot has a shitty day._
> 
>  
> 
> _Characters belong to me._

It was at your lunch break you had the misfortune of meeting a girl named Lily who resembled nothing of her name. She was tall with long, untamed kinky, frizzy hair, and she looked like she had just crawled out from under a bridge. She had her posse and an apparent vendetta for just about everyone that wasn't in it. You soon learned that she belonged to the physical den with her abnormal strength when she had unbolted the table you were eating your lunch at from the floor and everything was heaved on top of you in her sudden fit of rage that you had the misfortune to be the butt of. Her cliché served as damage control, blaming everything on you when the staff had seen the commotion and come to put a stop to it. You couldn't reply, as you were pinned under a solid oak table, and hadn't quite regained your wind. You mentally cursed your small frame as you were left with the mess to deal with yourself. Luckily you had a free hand, which you used to grab your now cracked phone and paged your mentor with a breathless wheeze. 

 

He seemed to take some understanding to it and soon entered the boisterous building, lifting the table with the same psychokinesis he used to save your plane from crashing into the forest below, setting it upright before pulling you to your feet, allowing you to brush the salad from your sweater. He asked you what happened, and you shrug in response, to which he responds with the same gesture. If you didn't want to press the subject, he wouldn't force you to talk about it, but later that day, you were called into the chancellor of the University's office. The chancellor was a short, stout man with a little gray beard who always wore a tuxedo and had a strange affinity for Elvis Presley. Lily already sat at one end of the desk, and the chancellor motioned you to take the seat next to her, to which you wish you could decline, seeing the absolute hate in her eyes. You sat next to the giant, scooting as far away as you possibly could. You wanted to conceal the fear on your face but it was a little late for that now. She let out a snort like an angry bull and that was the point you decided it was a good idea to physically scoot the chair away from her. 

Before you got the chance, Simon walked in, carrying a security tape, and you couldn't help but sigh in relief. He handed the tape over and the chancellor slipped it into the ancient vhs player that sat on the filing cabinet in the corner, showing the events of the day. The chancellor fast forwarded to the most recent incident, pausing after watching it twice. Long story short, Lily was placed on academic suspension and placed into anger management classes and you were now in constant fear for your life. Her friends weren't too happy with you either, and that's the way you made your way to the bottom of the food chain.

It was finally Friday. It was finally Friday and you had finally gathered enough nerve to punch your fucking mentor in the face. Finally. Simon sat at his desk as always, his feet propped onto the desk and his fugly face buried in another stupid remedial middle school book and holy shit you never hated anyone more (aside from maybe your grandfather). You'd wait until after class to do the deed, no need to upset anyone else. You were miserable. It felt like everyone was against you and all because Professor Simon-Fuckin'-Holly couldn't keep his nose in his own business. Class started like normal, another stupid, boring lecture about finding some sort of stupid center of stupid calmness, but you couldn't be calm. You couldn't find your “center of happiness” or whatever because you were pissed off beyond reason. He instructed everyone in breathing exorcises and you ignored him, and when class ended you were held after class. When everyone else had left, you approached his desk, your fists clenched and he stood, towering over you, chuckling. Oh shit he was going to hit you.  
“Chill out, dumbass.” he told you, staring into your eyes.  
“You can read minds,” you blurted through clenched teeth. His face went solemn and he sat back down.  
“Sit down.” he said.  
“But-”  
“Sit.”  
You were hesitant, but you did what you were told.  
“Sorry if you feel like I invaded your privacy, but it's my job to make sure that none of the students under my care are being fucked with because that could screw you up academically,” he crossed his hands, staring back into your eyes once again. “If you want to bitch and pout, you can, but do that on your own time, but when you're in class, act your age and get your shit together. I'm not paid to babysit spoiled brats, I'm paid to try to help them with the undeserved bullshit they have to deal with on a daily basis.”  
“My dad could read minds.” you say after a moment.  
“Yeah, I'm not your dad.”  
“No, you're just kind of a dick.”  
“I know.”  
You can't help but smile, though you try to fight it. He smiles back at you and promises to help you deal with this stupid bullshit your going through with the other students. This isn't high school, after all. You hesitate, before apologizing, and he laughs at you again.  
“Fugly.” he said, and you blushed, apologizing again. He really was trying to look out for you, and that's all it was. He finally dismissed you and you walked back to your dorm, doing breathing exercises on the way, trying your best to clear your mind. You unlock your door and on the floor is a postcard from your brother, Daniel.  
“Fuck,” you mumble. You haven't wrote him and it's clear in his letter he's heartbroken by that.  
“Dear Elliot,  
You're a big fat liar.  
Don't come home.  
-love Danny  
P.S. I peed in Grampa's shoes”

God dammit. You ran out of your dorm, locking the door behind you, and made your way to the stationary shop, buying an asston of postcards, writing one out for every week you missed, dating them all different dates before slipping them into the mailbox. And that's when you met him. The biggest problem you would ever face. His skin was green, his eyes were yellow and he looked like an actual troll, and his wicked grin spoke years for the intention he held for you. Despite that, you had to force yourself to believe he wasn't a threat when he invited you to sock skating in the gym's linoleum basketball court, newly buffed. Who would resist something like that? So, in an effort to get in touch with the child at heart, you grabbed a clean pair of socks from your top drawer, following your new friend to the gymnasium. He said his name was Carnew, and explained his Irish heritage, in which you chimed up with your last name, and you felt an instant friendship.  
“Irish brothers better stick together.” He said. It was a cheesy thing to say, but it was better than having a table flipped on top of you. 

_You thought you made a friend._

It was a short walk to the supposedly empty gym, but it felt like a mile in the thick snow. The gym itself was far from empty, professors students and the like standing around in their socks, it was almost surprising not to see Simon in there, but then again, he didn't seem like the type that would enjoy skating around in socks on a slippery floor. You started to question if he was ever a child when Carnew grabs you by your hand, sliding you out into the middle of the floor, and holy shit was that fun. You laughed and for the first time in a month you finally feel like you're at peace with yourself. You have a friend and the person out to get you was confined to her dorm with her creepy friends. You landed against a plush wall, before skating back towards your friend, pushing him along. He leaned his weight back into you, allowing you to push him around the gym seamlessly. You two push each other around for an hour before he stopped, looking to you, that same grin still on his face.  
“You wanna play a game?” He asked, and your senses kicked in, stronger than ever. You ignored them, like an idiot, and you would soon come to regret that.  
“Alright!~” You exclaimed, and he asked you to pull up your sleeves and hold out your arms for him, which you oblige without hesitation. He presses your fingers into your palms and small, luminescent stars show up on your arms and wrists, and you think it's the coolest thing ever.  
“What's the game called?” You asked him, bright eyed, and excited.  
“Survival.” He responds, smiling back, and you wonder what he means, and then more starts show up, connecting and convulsing, and then you realize.  
 _Those are your veins._  
He was sending electrical currents through your veins. You open your mouth to protest and as soon as you do, you feel a burning sensation, and everything goes black.  
 _You thought you made a friend._


	3. Gorillas in the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You woke to find yourself in the middle of the snow,. Your jacket and the outer layers of your clothes were gone and you were freezing. You're groggy and there are burns all up your arms and wrists. You feel ill and you wish you were back in your dorm. There was a figure in the distance that you could only assume was either death or an abominable snow man, and you close your eyes, awaiting whatever it was to end it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Inappropriate Conduct and a twist M. Night Shyamalan probably wouldn't see coming._
> 
> All characters are mine.

You feel a sudden tightness around your petite frame as you're wrapped in a blanket and hoisted into someone's arms. Maybe you wouldn't die.   
“Fucking idiot,” a girls voice grumbles, and you could've sworn it was a gorilla that picked you up.   
“Girl gorillas can talk too,” you remind yourself in your hazy stupor, eliciting a snort from the person carrying you. It was an hour before they returned you to the campus, carrying you into a familiar room. It was Simon's classroom. What a good gorilla...  
“What happened?” Simon asked as you're lowered onto his desk, finally able to see the face of your gorilla savior.

_Lily._

“It was the green kid,” she said brushing snow off your face. You want to cry, you thought she hated you but she saved you, and you do cry. You let out the most pathetic wail anyone in that room had ever heard, and immediately you're carried to the infirmary. Simon's touch was the most gentle thing you had ever felt as he rubbed the burn ointment onto your wounds and wrapped them up. He was saying something to you but you couldn't make it out, you were too busy staring at those eyes of his. You loved those eyes, they were the prettiest things you could ever remember seeing. You imagined having them put into jewelry and imagined how happy that would make your girlfriend if you had one. Lily held your head still as Simon cut you out of your wet clothes, redressing you in a set of his own. They even smelled like him, and you found a sort of comfort in that. You curled up onto your side and started to laugh as soon as the realization hit you. 

_You survived dude._

Fingers worked their ways into your hair and you thought they were Lily's until you saw her standing at the other side of the room. You could hear Simon say something about a knot in your head, and you could feel him shaking and that made you sad. You were shivering but he was shaking worse and that made you really sad. 

_He failed you._

That's what he felt, anyway. His thoughts weren't exactly silent in your head, and you could feel he was trying to block something out. Unlike him, you wouldn't press the matter. Instead, you sat up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He was skinny and scrawny like you and for some reason you liked that about him too. You realized you liked a lot about him, he was a strangely likeable person. Or maybe he was just strange and that's why you liked him. But not in a gay way because you were obviously straight. He hugged you back, squeezing the breath out of you. He wanted you to be warm and he was so adamant about it. His thoughts went quiet again as he regained himself. You looked to Lily and she seemed confused, indicating that she couldn't have heard him. He breaks away from you, throwing you a few extra blankets before grabbing his cellphone, trying to get a hold of the chancellor.  
Nothing.

“The line's dead,” he said, grabbing his heavy yellow jacket from the hook. “I'm going to find out what's going on. You two stay here.”   
You nodded, curling back up under the blankets. Lily locked the door after he left and sat at your bedside, and for the first time in a while, you had a real, civilized conversation. You talked to her about hobbies and music and interests and you were surprisingly pleased to know that you shared a shit ton of common interests with her. That's when she did something you never would have expected from someone as scary as her.  
“I'm sorry for gettin' pissed off at you like that,” she said, looking off to the side. You were surprised to see the sincerity in her face. You apologized for calling her a gorilla and you both laughed. It was an hour before Simon returned. He looked exhausted and there was no doubt in your mind that there was something wrong. You stood up, unsteady and gestured him to lay down, and suddenly he's barricading the door with everything that wasn't attached to the floor. You sat on the carpet and stared into space. The only explanation your mind could comprehend was a zombie invasion and he quickly put that notion to rest. For both you and Lily.  
“No, it's not fucking zombies,” he growled and the both of you recoiled. “There's a gunfight and I'm not gonna bother dealing with it. The chancellor's got everything on lock down and you two need to sit ti-”  
Lily pushed everything out of the way and stepped out, narrowly dodging a stray bullet, before grabbing one of the assailants, throwing them into the other, knocking the gun out of both their hands. And that's how she got a job as campus security. 

You spent the rest of the day in the infirmary with Simon, sitting on the floor while he tutored and meditated with you. You had a sense that he had never done this with other students, between the nervous laughter and the awkward silence. He often asked if you were okay, checking your arms and rustling your hair.   
“So uh,” you started, a bit nervous on the subject, “I heard your thoughts, and it wasn't your fault. I ignored my sixth sense and I fucked up.”  
“Yeah, well, don't do that.” He cleared his throat. “You ever have visions, like, future sight or something? That's what your grandad told the school.”  
You stared down at your feet for a moment.  
“I used to. I used to see when bad things were about to happen, good things were about to happen, and I could work to change it. Then I saw my dad die and it just kinda stopped. I can feel bad things still but it's not as strong as it used to be.”

“That's because you put up what's called a block. Kind of like a road block,” He explained. “People do that a lot. I did when-” he stopped. You could tell the subject was sensitive for him, and you were hesitant to continue with it, but he pressed on. “When I was 17, my best friend was killed, and I lost my shit. I killed someone and then I just stopped.”  
“Stopped?” you asked? Holy fuck. Your professor was a killer.  
“Stopped with my abilities. I couldn't use anything, and when I did, I'd get a really bad nose bleed. It took years of therapy to get the block to go away.”  
He looked like he was about to cry, and you wanted to hug the fuck out of the professor, and that's just what you did. You got onto your knees and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, rocking him back and forth as hot tears soaked into the black and yellow flannel. It was funny how quiet he was when he cried, unlike your brother, who tended to wail like a banshee. The only sounds he made were the quietest of sniffles and you found it sort of cute, not that you'd ever admit it aloud. Something inside you screamed that this was inappropriate conduct for a student to hold a teacher like this, not that it mattered to you. The way you saw it was your friend was crying and you were doing your best to comfort him. Even going as far as to kiss the top of his head. And that seemed to spark something in the other. He pulled back quickly, staring at you before standing up, wiping his eyes and walking out. You were left confused, and unsure, sitting back against the wall. 

 

The next day Simon held you after class again.   
“We're getting rid of your block.” he says. He looked flushed, his cheeks pink, and you assumed it was from the cold. You smiled at him and sent Lily a text, postponing your plans for the day and sat across from the man. 

His fingers were cool against your temples, and his voice was gentle with his commands.  
“Close you eyes,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours, and you did so, and you gravely wish you hadn't, because as soon as you did, your mind was opened and you saw a continuous loop of why your block had smacked itself right down in front of your abilities, and you cried and screamed and begged for it to stop, and your professor wrapped his arms around you, keeping that god awful loop going as you wailed like your brother into his chest. He tells you it's going to be okay and that none of it was your fault, and deep down you know it was, it was all your fault. You could have called your dad, you could have stopped him from getting into the car and you could have stopped that entire tragedy if you had just gotten off your fat ass and called your fucking dad. Your mom tried to tell you otherwise, she tried to take you to therapy, but your grandad always told you otherwise and that was one of the reasons you hated the God damned bastard, and the more you thought about this, the tighter he hugged you, and the closer he got to your ear, and the more he told you that your grandad was wrong, how you needed to know, that it wasn't your fault because it just wasn't. No devoted dad's going to not watch the birth of their child under any circumstances and even if he had reached the phone in time, it wouldn't have mattered. And the loop started to fade, and you leaned up, your lips colliding with your professors, your fingers twisting into his hair in the least gay way possible.   
You kissed your teacher.

_And he kissed you back._


	4. The Outcast, The Psychic, and Carly Simon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You stared at your teacher. Both of you were completely confused. You blamed it on some sort of stupid psychic shit and you spent the rest of the day telling yourself you're not gay. You liked the boob. You liked the boob like Michael Jackson liked kids. It had to be some kind of psychic shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Angsty angsty angst._
> 
> All characters belong to me.

“You kissed Professor Holly.”   
Lily was dumbfounded, staring at you across the cafe table. You motioned for her to keep it down, warning that he could get in trouble for it. Lily nodded slowly, her eyes still wide.  
“S-So you're gay, right?”  
“No way,” you proclaimed. “It was just some brain fluke thing.”   
That's what you would tell yourself, that's what you had to. Like it or not, you enjoyed that disgusting kiss. You meet up with your mentor after class on Friday, you've made it sort of a ritual, though today it felt different. Since last week, you hadn't made any effort in going to see your teacher, and it was refreshing to see him again. He refuses eye contact through the entire lecture and after class you were able to grab him right as he tried to escape. You literally had to grab his coat as he was leaving, and still then he was hesitant to talk to you. 

“I'm sorry,” you finally say. You move against him, and he leans down, kissing your forehead. You're quiet for a moment, and he holds your temples in between his fingers. It was starting again. The same loop of your brother's birthday, though, now it seemed a little fainter. You found yourself back in his arms, gripping his shirt. You're teeth are grit and you're trying not to cry as he talks you through this again. You hated this part. You hated a lot of things. It was fading, as was your consciousness. He pulled back at the last second, and held a hand over his bleeding nose.   
“Oh fuck, you're hurt!” You exclaimed, grabbing a few tissues from the box on the man's desk, cleaning the blood from his lip. He stares down at you, his face solemn, and you realize.  
He's got the block again, and it's _your_ fault.

“Simon-” you start, and suddenly his fingers are tied in your hair, and your lips are working against his and everything's good. He moved his grip around your waist, his chin set on your shoulder, his breath hot on your neck, making you squirm. You wrapped your arms back around his broad, boney shoulders and buried your face in the crook of his neck. His hands were gripping your clothes as if he were holding onto life itself, and you blinked a few tears away and hugged him a little tighter, your lips moving against his temple and down his jawline. 

You aren't quite sure what propelled you to do this, you sure as hell weren't gay, but something about his reaction made you feel warm inside. He relaxed his grip and let out a little whimper of a noise, and you blushed like an idiot. You pulled away, repositioning your hands to cup his face and your lips locked with his once again, and for the first time you opened your eyes and you saw the faint freckles that speckle his now rosy cheeks, and you thought that it was the cutest thing thing that you'd ever seen, and you ignore the tears rolling down and magnifying them because A., you didn't want him to know you've got your eyes open during the kiss cause who fucking does that, and B., you didn't want him to know you see him crying because he could get all flustered and take off even though you wanted to let him know that he wasn't a big baby and it was going to be okay. Instead you closed your eyes again, and hoped to god he wasn't reading your thoughts. 

Suddenly he broke the kiss, dragging a little sound out of you with it, and he laughed at you. You wonder why and he levitates over a small mirror he had hanging up in the corner of the classroom, revealing the deep red tint of your face. You inadvertently glare at him and his laugh dies down to a chuckle as he pecks your temple, causing you to squirm again. He loved the affection, and you didn't exactly mind giving it to him, especially with the way he repaid it. But you still weren't gay. 

 

“Oh my God you made out with Professor Holly again,” Lily greeted you with, her eyes wide at the state of things. Apparently you were still blushing, though not quite as bad, when she surprised you by waiting for you after class and you ran right into the titan. Her friends had seemed to disown her after she started hanging out with a nerd like you and she was okay with that.   
“We didn't 'make out',” you growled, “He was just getting rid of this stupid mental block and he had to get a little close.”  
“No, you were making out, you were sitting on his desk and practically down his throat.”  
You felt your face heat up. Holy shit she saw everything. You looked down, ashamed and unsure what to say, so you say the only thing that came to mind.  
“I'm not gay.” 

 

Saturday was the day you had to yourself, and this particular was the day you decided to stay in bed and ignore all calls. You leaned over, getting a chill and grab the first blanket you can reach, pulling it around you. It smelled familiar and comforting, and you brought it to your face, taking a deep breath and taking in the smells. Your breaths were shallow and you finally opened your eyes. The black and yellow plaid flannel that Simon had wrapped you in the day Lily brought you in from the snow was tucked snugly in your arms. You hesitated before burying your face in the rough, thick fabrics, sniffing it again, and fuck it smells just like him. You hesitated before biting the collar. You didn't know what exactly he was expecting, but what you got was a mixture of sweat and scent. You peppered the cloth with little kisses and God damn it you weren't gay! You gave a little whine, tossing the shirt back on the floor before pulling your comforter over your head. You huffed and shivered until you finally just gave up, pushing your blankets off and getting ready for the day. You opened the door and nearly slammed into Lily, whose fist was raised to knock on the solid wood. She laughed a bit, reaching out and rapping her knuckles against your skull gently. You gave her a wry smile and asked her what was up, to which she replied with a snort at the sight of the yellow flannel laying on your bed.  
“Do you actually sleep with that thing?”   
You grunted, ignoring her question and started out.  
“Hey, you know he's on a manhunt for you. You miss a date or something?”  
Why was he looking for you? You chalked it up to forgetting something in his classroom and told her not to worry about it. You could only call it irony when you smack right into him walking into the cafe. 

 

He pardoned your friend and nearly dragged you to his classroom, dropping the blinds and locking the door behind him before he pushed you back onto a desk taking a seat in front of you, and you shuddered. He was taking this a little fast, wasn't he? That was when he said the words that would drive you crazy for the next month and a half:  
“Knock it off, I have a girlfriend.”   
You don't expect yourself to feel this godawful, you wanted to be relieved that he was putting an end to this stupid shit, but instead you feel like you're going to cry.   
“You aren't actually insinuating that I'm the one starting this bullshit,” you growled at him, letting your emotions get the better of you  
“It doesn't matter who started it,” He says flatly. “I'm ending it. No more private lessons, no more hanging out after class, and I'm sorry, but you're gonna half to figure out how to deal with that stupid block on your own.”  
Your heart breaks at that last piece. You could deal with a rejection to a relationship you didn't even want, but for someone you looked up to to say thy wanted nothing to do with you, that was what really, really, _really_ hurt. You could feel your bottom lip tremble as you gave your iciest glare up into the asshole.   
“You know what, fuck you. I didn't want anything to do with you in _that_ way in the first place, I'm not gay.” You couldn't look him in they eye but you saw his lack of emotion and that just dug you deeper into your kiddie pool of self pity. You closed your eyes and hoped to god that he's reading your mind because as soon as you did, you thought the lyrics of Carly Simon's “Your So Vain” as loud as you could, and to your delight he recoiled in shock, holding his head. With that, you left him there, rejoining Lily in the near empty cafe, and fell to pieces in your coffee. She frowned setting her hand on your shoulder, as you repeated to yourself over and over “I'm not gay, I'm not gay.”

__

You were so deep in the closet you could see Narnia. 


	5. Flannel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You two are civil with each other, but you're no longer quite as friendly. You still don't have the ability to look him in the eye with wanting to cry, and you still won't admit that you've tasted sweet Narnian winters from that closet of yours. Your stomach churns and as soon as you sit in your once favorite class, an uncanny sense of dread washes over you. Your teacher's not in class and instead Lily's in his place, watching the rest of the assholes that you sometimes forget share the room with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ANGSTY ANGSTY ANGSTY And then **BOOM** There's some motherfucking action. _
> 
> All characters are mine
> 
> ((The beginning of this chapter kind of sucks and I might or might not rewrite it later, depending on what kind of reviews and comments I get. If any. -Norse))

You approached Lily, pulling up a chair and sitting across from her, and she avoids all eye contact with you.  
“Dude, what's up?” You press, your voice cracking. You feared the worst. Did Simon get locked out of his room and freeze to death or something? “Where's the teacher?”  
There's a long drought of silence before she finally answers you.  
“He's out on the runway,” she says, lacking the same gruff tone she normally carries out. “He's meeting up with Avana.”  
“Avana?” Your stomach sank, and you already knew the answer but you didn't want to face it.  
“Yeah,” she said. “His, yunno. Girlfriend.”  
Your face hit the desk and your trying not to sob like the bitch you were, and your efforts worked until you heard a woman's voice and that's when you bolted for home, locking yourself into your dorm. You climbed into your bed, pulled the covers over your head, and you blasted music in your head so, in the off chance that your mentor came by to check up on you, he wouldn't be able to get in. Just when you thought it couldn't be worse, Lily stopped by, feeding you the news that Avana would be working here, she was a mind reader and would be tutoring those in that field. That meant one on one conversations with you. 

Avana was kind, and you could see why Simon was so into her. She cringed every time she walked by you though, as you always had to block out the sounds of your own thoughts with some sort of loop of shitty music. That still didn't stop her from finding out one day. One day she had kept both you and Simon after class. 

“Okay,” She said, brushing her hair out of her face. “Who's gonna spill the beans.”  
You and your professor were sitting side by side, neither of you able to say a word, both of you stare blank face faced and dumbfounded at the woman. She set her hands on her hips and stared down at you two.  
You screamed your apology, you had to or else it wouldn't come out of your throat. You hated your professor but you didn't want him alone. You ramble on about how it was your fault for what felt like hours before Simon finally backhanded you quiet. You stared at him, a bruise already forming on your face. Avana smiled sadly, ruffling Simon's hair, before smacking him as repercussion for hitting you. Your silent as he pleads his case, and you can hear his voice cracking.   
“It was just a stupid kiss,” he said, his eyes locked on the woman, and you could see the exact moment when his heart breaks, just like you were sure he could see it in yours when he abandoned you. Once again your emotions betrayed you. In the event where you should have thrown an “Hooray, This Asshole's Miserable” party was the exact moment you felt like you needed to hug the shit out of him more than any other time in your pathetic life.  
“I'm sorry, Simon. It's over.” she said, keeping her soft expression. He didn't cry, much to your surprise, instead, returning that sad smile. As soon as Avana walked out of the building, his head hit the desk, and he let out a sound that scared the living shit out of you, like the mixture of some kind of growl, and a half assed laugh. You assume they had a secondary mind-reading conversation or some shit.   
“I'm sorry,” you said after what felt like an hour of awkward silence. You could feel the hot tears trailing down your face, not bothering . Just like that you fucked up his life.   
“Chill out, dumbass,” he mumbled. “I knew it was coming a mile away. She just needed a reason.”   
He went on about how they'd still be best friends and all that but that doesn't make you feel any better. It even succeeded in making you feel a little worse. He turned and smiled, rustling your hair and apologized for being so harsh on you, and in return you punched him in the face before walking back to your dorm.

“You punched Professor Holly.” Lily parroted, dumbstruck.   
“Yeah, I did,” you grumbled, icing your black eye. You weren't going to play a platonic second fiddle. You stared down into your coffee.   
“Is he pressing charges?”  
“I don't care.”  
You take a sip of the bittersweet drink before you set the cup down, heading back to your dorm to mope, and there he was, sitting on your bed with that same, nasty smile as when you met him.  
“Hey Elli,” Carnew greeted, sitting on your bed. He had that stupid black and yellow flannel in his hands and you wanted to scream. “You got a cool shirt here man. I feel like I've seen it before though. Can't really place where though...”  
You take a few steps back. You're ready to run like hell but Carnew's got other plans.  
“Hey, you won the last game of survival, didn't you?” he asked before he sent an electric bolt at you containing the same force as a taser. You hit the floor, writhing and screaming. “At least I'm sure you thought you did. But I guess I didn't make the rules clear, Elliot my boy. You weren't supposed to have outside help, so what you did was cheating, and I demand a do-over.”  
You could feel a burning sensation as he knelt down, pressing his hand to your chest, sending currents through your body. It was getting harder to breathe and you could taste a distinct, metallic taste, one you always got when you bite your tongue to hard or tried to suck on a wound. The taste filled your mouth and your sight began to fade, and suddenly the current stop. You heard a swift smack, and you struggled to sit up. Carnew was halfway up the wall, struggling against an invisible force, and behind you stands Simon in all his “I just saved the day” glory. That was about the point you forgave him for being a complete dick, but it didn't matter. You were toasty on the inside and probably about to die. You spit up a mouthful of blood and drag yourself up a wall. If you were going to die, you were going to die with your now favorite possession. You inched your sorry ass over to Carnew, nailed him in the stomach with a decent punch to the groin, and with the last bit of your energy, grabbed that dumbass' stupid flannel, sinking back onto the floor with the shirt snuggled safely in your arms, and you pass out in peace, a few last words from your mentor echoing in your brain.

”Don't fucking die!”

__

The little sob that followed made you hold that shirt a little tighter.


	6. Aglets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You can feel yourself drifting through space. There are voices surrounding you but they're faint you can't make any of them out. You sigh deeply, and you feel like a weight's been lifted off your chest as the air works itself in and out of your lungs easier than it ever has.  
>  You're dead, and this is what the afterlife is, you already figured this much out. You can make out that light at the end of the tunnel, but it feels like you're not getting as close to it as you'd like to. If fact, it almost seems like you're getting farther from it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Gettin kinda fluffy there friend._
> 
> All characters belong to me.

There's a second light, one shining overhead, and you can hear the voices a little more clearly. Something hot drips onto your face and you want to assume it's magma, and that you're in hell about to go down a list about all the shit you did when you were alive, but that's not the case. You wish it was when you open your eyes to find your grandfather standing over you, a line of drool dripping off his chin.

 

“You're awake,” he says, slurping that bit of drool back into his mouth, causing your stomach to churn violently. “See, Maggie! I told ya the brat was stronger than you gave him credit for.”   
Your mother rushes over, draping herself around you and hugged you tight. You were alive and laying in a bed in the intensive care unit of some hospital. Your brother's jumping for joy and you could see Lily in the corner, smiling brightly before slipping out. The nurse pulled your mother off, sending your family into the waiting room, chastising them about exciting you too much and ripping stitches. Your heart jumped at the sound of the voice of your hero, and into the room walked Simon, taking the seat next to your bedside, flipping open his book without a second word. You could see that his forearms were wrapped in gauze, and you frowned again. 

 

“He got you, huh?” You asked, trying not to sound too concerned. He nodded, not looking up from his book.   
“How?” you asked, laying back in the bed.   
“Don't worry about it, Elliot,” he says. His voice is calmer than normal, and it unnerves you slightly, like he's trying to stay that way. You laid back in your bed and started to fiddle with your hands.  
“I love you,” you said. You don't know what made you say it, whether it was the drugs or the trauma, but somewhere underneath your stupor you knew you meant it.   
“Yeah.” he said, flipping a page. “I kind of figured. What with you clinging to my coat like a dumbass.”  
You smile as something lands on your torso, and you immediately snatch up the flannel, snuggling it close to you. You notice that it's singed and your smile fades. There was blood on it and something inside of you knew it wasn't yours.  
“How long was I out?” You ask. Simon scratches his face, thinking for a moment. You can hear that he hasn't shaved in a few days.

“Bout two months.” he finally says and your heart drops. You were in a coma. You were in a coma and you came out with little to no brain damage and you were okay with that.   
“Were my teeth brushed at least?” Because, you know, hygiene was your biggest worry.  
“Every day and every night by your mom.” he said. You could see his fingers trembling. “Your brother cried a lot. He really looks up to you, doesn't he?”  
You laugh, bringing the shirt over your face.  
“Yeah, I guess he does.” 

The nurse interrupted your conversation to take your vitals. Everything seemed to be surprisingly normal, despite the fact you were out for two months. As soon as she's out you and Simon return to your conversation.

You got to the topic of school and he sighed and shut his book after bookmarking it.  
“Wouldn't know,” he said, moving closer to your bed. He folded his hands, setting them onto the edge, and stared straight into your eyes. “Haven't been since you landed your ass in here.”  
“What about your job?” You start to turn on your side, but a sharp pain kept you in place on your back.  
“Yeah, don't pop any stitches. I have a few months of vacation stashed up and with Avana there I can finally fucking use them.” He cracked a sarcastic smile and you were shocked when his face didn't fall apart. He helped you sit up, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. As much as you loved that shirt, it could never beat the real thing.

“They have to on too much morphine,” he mumbled, picking you up and seating you in his lap. Inappropriate student-teacher conduct at it's finest. He picked up his book and began reading over your shoulder while you buried your nose in his. He smelled like he hadn't bathed in a week and you were fine with that.  
“You haven't had an actual shower in two months and I'm still holding your rank ass,” he muttered. “so don't start.”  
You let out a long sigh.  
“I'm not gay.” you mumbled.   
“I know,” he replied, setting his book back down.  
“You need to stay out of my brain.”   
“Yeah, no.”

 

You were doped up, but not so much so you can't pop his wandering mind with a quick verse of Billy Joel, causing him to jerk back into his seat, and you smacked back onto the bed.  
Worth it.

 

He sighed and crawled into bed next to you, draping an arm around your torso, laying his head on your shoulder, his breathe hot on your shoulder. You turned onto your side, taking your movements slow so you wouldn't pop any stitches. You could feel yourself start to drift off back into sleep, and you're so close to slumber when your mother screamed. 

Simon held an ice pack against his swollen, black eye, and he looked like a frustrated child while your mom screamed and ranted at him, and you could only sit and giggle. You didn't realize how hard your mom could hit with her purse until you saw it connect with his eye. The nurse ushered your mom out, and Simon picked up his book, throwing it against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. You could only laugh at his reaction. He reminded you of a child who didn't get his way. You're levitated into his lap, and in a last act of rebellion, he kissed you, twisting his fingers in your hair, causing you to laugh against his lips before falling victim to his resentful affections. Your lips kneaded against his, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and for the first time in a long time, you were really, really happy.

 

Your mother was furious when you told her you were going directly back to “that godawful school with the horrible cradle robbing teacher”. Your grandfather on the other hand was more happy than you'd ever seen him before. You came to love that godawful school, and more so your god awful teachers, each and every one of them. Especially the horrible cradle robber. You sighed, laying against the headrest of the taxi. A lot of the snow had melted and the roads up were accessible again, you could even see grass sticking out of the white blanket that you had become accustomed to. You look to your side trying to get a glimpse of the book he's been reading for the past year. You expected it to be “War and Peace” or “A Tale of Two Cities” or something like that, something smart. It was a fucking Dictionary. An old, worn out, paperback pocket dictionary. 

“What.” you said aloud.  
“What?”  
“You've been reading a dictionary.”  
He shrugged, flipping through the old book. He held it out for you, and hesitantly you took it, flipping through it yourself, noticing highlighted words every so often. If there was a prize for the biggest nerd, he would win it.

“You big dork.”  
“Hey man, we nerds prosper. I bet you don't know what the tip of a shoe lace is called.”  
You never really knew you wanted to know, you weren't even sure they had a name.  
“What are they?” You pressed, your face deadly serious.  
“Aglets,” replied the nerd king. “Dumbass.”

You laughed at him, and he ruffled your hair in response. You hit him in response. Not the swollen face you gave him months before, but enough to leave a small mark on his arm. He gave you a confused look.  
“I hate it when you do that.” you spoke after a moment, your voice cracking. You could see a small swell of anger in his face. In response to that, you cupped his face in your palms, pressing a kiss to his forehead, but then he just looked sad. You didn't have the heart to tell him why it really bothered you, and he seems to respect that. He's learned not to dig into your mind, and to make sure of that you always have a loud blur of music playing in your mind. You kissed his chin while telling yourself that this was not a gay action, and that you were as far from gay as you could be. He flinched back when you set your hands on his, and finally you asked.  
“What happened?”

He hesitated, bringing his palm to your face, nuzzling you gently.   
“You passed out and I panicked.” he explained after a long hesitation. “I lost focus and I dropped him and ran to get you. I thought you were dead or something, you looked pretty crispy-”  
“What happened to your arms?”  
He huffed.  
“I was getting to that. When I dropped him, he tried to disable my arms by burning them, but Lily whacked him before he could get too far. He got away, but there's no way he could last in Alaska's wilderness by himself.”  
You nodded, relieved by the explanation, and you kiss his lips in a silent “thank you”.

But you still weren't gay.


	7. Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was your second semester in college, and to kick it off, all returning students would be taken on a week long camping trip, spear headed by their den leaders. Each ability had a class and each class had a den, ranging from strength to various kinds of kinesis (which you found Carnew was a part of) to strength and beyond. There weren't many students that agreed to go on the trip, still fearing that Carnew was out there, and to your delight, you were the only person of your class aside from your den father that agreed to go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Implied sex, a shit ton of fluff and drunken bs_
> 
> All characters belong to me.

You shuddered, a chill crawling up your spine as the first night's chill nipped at your skin, and you wished you had brought more clothes. Simon knocked his fist against your shoulder, catching your attention away from the crackling fire, and you noticed something gleaming in his hand. 

“Is that a flask?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow. He replied by holding a finger to his lips, holding it out to you. You hesitate before tipping it back to your lips and gagged. It was hot tomato soup and Simon was officially the biggest dick in the world.  
“Like I'm going to feed you alcohol.”   
You cap the flask, tossing it back at the laughing man. He smiled at you, pulling a flashlight out of his pack, flipping it on.

“Want to go on a quick hike?” he asked, his breath illuminated by the bright light. You gave an eager nod and stood, helping the older onto his feet. He swept you into his arms, giving you a tight hug that seemed to fill you with a new warmth. He releases you after a moment, taking your hand in his grip, and you twined your fingers with his, leading him through the vast, empty field you two were stationed at. You could see large campfires in the distance, scattered along ridges of the mountain, and you realized that you had the entire expanse of the valley to yourselves.

_Had he planned it that way?_

It was half an hour into the walk when you found yourself too into a conversation to hear the trickling of the creek you managed to slip and fall into. You felt instantly numb, and Simon pulled you out as fast as he could. You were soaked to the bone and shivering violently, the relentless cold chilling you to the bone. He wrapped you in his arms, carrying you back to the tent, tossing you an extra set of warm clothes. The sweater pocket holding something heavy. You reached your fingers in, finding a bottle of vodka. Before he had a chance to act, you had half of it down. It was bitter and it made your throat burn, but it brought you some form of heat, and you were okay with that. He snatched it away from you, inspecting the bottle, and after a moment took a quick swig. You gave a slight shudder, your hair still wet, and he draped an extra blanket over your head and shoulders. You hesitated, and after a moment you finally cup his face in his palms, making him shiver slightly, and you leaned in, kissing his lips, and in return he wrapped his arms around your waist, returning the affection.

You shiver against him, pinned under his weight from the waist down. He's fast asleep, his head rested on your chest. In one hand he held yours, his fingers twined with yours, and in the other he held the empty bottle of vodka. You had yet to yank your pants back up and you were more sore than you'd ever remember being. You let out a soft sigh, fingers running through his soft hair. You didn't feel quite as invaded as you thought you would. Instead you felt a resonating warm that seemed to echo inside of you. You closed your eyes, finally deciding to get a bit of sleep.

The morning brought you a sense of dread. You were still sore and would have to walk back to the main trail to meet up with the bus, and you had the strangest feeling that he wasn't going to piggy-back you back, even though this was all his fault. You sat up, your head pounding, and you felt like you were about to vomit. You pull your pants up and realize the weight holding them down was missing. You gurgled your teacher's name, your eyes still half lidded, and eventually fall flat onto your back, letting out a tired groan. He poked his head back inside, his face paler than normal, and that's when you noticed it. It was the stench of burnt, rotten meat.

 

“We have to go,” he said, stifling a gag. You crawled out of the tent and the smell of rot whacked you like a ton of bricks, pushing you over the edge and making you double over and vomit. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling his hand over your eyes, and you could hear the helicopter approaching. You were crying when they're talking about the week long rot and all the animals that have eaten at the body of your grandfather, along with the evidence of being struck by lightning.

_He found your family._

You spent the next week held up in Simon's cabin, curled in his bed while your mom and brother stayed in your dorm under security surveillance 24/7. A lot of the time Simon's curled around you, fondling your hands, trying to tell you it would be alright. In your moments of clarity you'd bury your face in his chest, trying to listen and believe him when he said it wasn't your fault. That's when you realized, you never got the feeling, and you realized if you hadn't drank that half bottle of vodka you might have been able to sense what was going to happen, you might have been able to fix things, and-

 

You were on your back, pinned by your wrists, and sobbing pathetically.   
“Listen to me, dumbass,” he said. “It wasn't your fault, I swear it wasn't, you wouldn't have seen it coming whether you were sober or high as a fucking kite, just like with the last time Carnew attacked you. If you had got that feeling, would you have opened the door?”  
“Stay out of my brain, asshole!” You hiss, your eyes narrowed. He releases one of your hands, and the next thing you know you're on the floor, your jaw swelling.  
“You didn't see that coming, did you?”  
You stared up at him, dumbfounded.  
“Answer me, Elliot.”  
“N-No, I didn't.”  
He dragged you back into his bed, hugging him into his chest.   
“Your block's gotten worse since we've last worked on it.”   
He pinned your wrists above your head in one hand, tilting your chin up and held his fingers to your temple.   
A plethora of memories flashed before your eyes, and you wanted to cry when it caught on the scene you've been replaying in your mind every time you enter his classroom and _she's_ in there with him.

It wasn't something gross, it wasn't even a kiss. It was the scene when she ruffled his hair, and every time you thought of it your heart broke a little more. He pulled back after a second of it, staring down at you. You felt more distraught than you ever had, your heart pounding audibly in your chest.   
He brought you into his chest. He didn't laugh at you, he didn't call you dumbass.   
“I understand,” he whispered into your ear, sending shudders up your spine. You laid your head on his shoulder and braced yourself for the reel. You could feel his fingers twining in your hair, pulling your head back, leaning in to kiss you. You try to pull back but you can't seem to separate yourself from him, and instead melt into that kiss.   
That was the exact point that you realized it.   
You loved him.   
You loved him, and there was no way you could fight it. He pulled away, eliciting a small whimper from you. He ran his fingers through your hair, rustling and ruffling it, and you begged him to stop. You wanted to cry. He didn't take his hand away, instead pulled you closer, digging his fingers closer to your scalp. 

“Say it,” he mumbled softly.   
“Say what?” there was irritation and hurt in your voice. You gasped as he bit your neck before moving to kiss your lips. You pulled back with a soft whine, and his teeth sank into your neck, causing you to struggle underneath him. He wasn't going to stop until you said it out loud. You open your mouth to try to speak but all that came out was a loud, pathetic whine. 

“I love you,” you finally managed to whine, and he held you close, detaching from your neck, leaving a wicked bruise that you would have a hard time explaining to your mom. He smiled at you, pulling you a little closer, kissing you again. This was the first time he had ever scene him confident, or maybe dominant would be a better word. You could see in his face he was still shy and nervous, and you knew he was working off of your own pathetic emotions. You liked to be teased, and you liked to be dominated, and you swore to god in your head that you weren't gay, but there it was, the snows of Narnia, there to sit on and numb your sore ass.

_“You're mine.”_

Those words caught you off guard. They weren't exactly an “I love you”, but you had a feeling he didn't know how to say it.

It was good enough though.


	8. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It had been three months since you had seen your boyfr- your teacher. Your brain was completely and one hundred percent dying with the oxygen you weree using to gasp and wheeze through your running. You had been moved back to your little Oregon town and you were being made to run uphill by your asshole instructor while he chased you with a megaphone on his segway. Simon was having to investigate the douche bag that killed your grandad, but he had promised to meet up with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note:  
> Nothing really happens in the second half.  
> My only advice to you is to read the first half and the ending paragraph.  
> Spare yourself from that godawful writers block wreck.  
> No like, seriously, this chapter is shit.

You took a moment to stop and breathe, your lungs burning and hot tears rolled down your cheeks disguised by the cold sweat that dripped down from your forehead. Senor Douche Bag stood behind you, screaming at and motivating you and you're ready to fucking explode on him. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you told you instructor to shut the hell up (using less pleasant words), answering the call. A familiar voice sent chills up your spine and plastered a bright grin on your face.  
“Hey asshole, I'm like two hours away.”  
You got giddy, giggling in joy at the sound of his voice. He questioned the sound, followed by some snide remark but you didn't care. Your best friend was coming back. You abandoned your class, nearly sprinting back to your mom's house, preparing your room for his arrival. You could hear your mom shouting something at you for ditching your classes, but you ignored her for more important matters. Not that you'd ever let him know. He'd never let you live it down. You didn't notice him creep in while you were setting up your bed, and you shrieked when he grabbed you by the sides, yanking you against his body, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the gay douche.

You turn, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, letting out some pitiful whine, a lame excuse to tell him how much you missed him, to which he responds by running his fingers through your hair, pushing your head back, pressing a deep, merciless kiss, eliciting another soft whine from your throat, tears swelling at the edges of your eyes from the sheer joy of having him back. He jerked back after you heard a painful popping sound, turning to see your mother with that dreaded wooden spoon that cause you so much grief as a child. 

“You made my son gay!” she near shrieked with that banshee voice that struck fear into the hearts of all men.  
“I'm not gay,” you grumbled, and without warning your head's yanked back by the hair, your mouth engulfed by his lips in some sick sloppy kiss, not that you mind. You actually enjoy yourself, gripping his shoulders as the spoon floats from your mothers hands, joining the other miscellaneous items now floating carelessly around the room. You can tell how confident he feels in the way he digs his fingers in your back, ignoring your mothers deranged shrieks as your baby brother tries his best to drag her away. 

He pulled back after a good long while, allowing you to catch your breath, and the sight of your mother's glare. You blushed and gave her a shy smile, to which she seemed to calm down to. After all, you were happy with this man. Very happy. 

“You're going to be kicked out of the congregation you know.” she said after a moment, matter of factually. You knew. You didn't care. You hated that stupid congregation. It got your Pokemon games taken away and Mario was ripped from your house. Your dad never did much care for it either. He always sneaked you out early to go fishing or take you hiking. Simon ran his fingers down the back of your neck, and your face flushed with the brightest red that could ever be imagined as his voice rang inside of your head.

“They won't want you back after what you did with the devil~”

You elbow him in the side and your mother nails him in the face, apparently hearing what he had said. He got a little too confident and he lost a bit of control. He recoiled from the hit, wiping the blood from his nose, laughing. Why was he laughing? Had he lost his shit or something? He threw his arms around your mom, giving her a tight squeezed, and she stared at you, a confused expression on her face.

“I fucking miss people,” he said, his voice nearly cracking. “I miss physical contact, I miss, Holy Shit, scream at me again, please!”  
He had cracked or something. The loneliness of investigating murders in an empty tundra had taken its toll on the man, it had been months since he had come into contact with anyone at all. He whipped around, scooping you into his arms again, biting down on your shoulder, and you whined, trying to pull him off by the hair. He wouldn't budge and you realized he had drawn blood by the feeling of the hot liquid that soaked itself into your shirt, and adrenaline takes over. You finally pried him off and inspect your skin. There were marks, but the skin wasn't broken. You look back to him to see the tears trailing his cheeks. 

“There was no one else out there,” he sobbed, covering his mouth with his sleeve. “I was left all alone for three months and I swear to God I was ready to kill myself.” He wiped his eyes and your heart dropped in your chest. You had never seen him lose his composure. Ever. Seeing him so distraught was something you never really wanted to see either. Your knight in whatever armor he was wearing was a sobbing shaking mess of “holy shit that was scary”. Your mothers expression softened.

“I'm going to make tea, how would you like it?”

Simon cringed.

“I'm pretty sure I drank so much of that shit while I was up there that my blood's turned into it thanks.”  
You stifled a little laugh and your mother smiled.  
“You two just be quiet with whatever you do. You're brothers still in the house alright, Elli?”  
You nodded, digging your fingers into Simon's scalp with a small sigh, pulling his head back into your shoulders. It was odd seeing him so submissive. You didn't mind it one bit though. You kind of liked him this gentle and pliable. You sat down with him on your freshly made bed, holding him against you. He smelled like old booze and stale cologne, accompanied by the scent of sweat and misery. Your bottom lip trembled as he shrunk up against you, gripping you as if you were the device keeping him from drowning.   
Your fingers wandered down his body, gripping the hem of his coat, and you gathered the sweater with it, slowly easing both over his head. He was thinner than you had remembered. Had he stopped eating...?  
You shook your head and pulled off his pants and wrapped him in a blanket burrito before you undressed and crawled in with him. It was weird and awkward, but his arms around you fixed that quite quickly. 

You awoke to the sound of your mother screaming at you from the floor. She was screaming at you as much as she was screaming about the fact that you were pinned to the living room ceiling in only your underwear, the furniture slowly floating up to join you. Simon was screaming in his sleep, scratching at his face, raking his nails down his skin. You managed to crawl down the wall, grabbing Simon by the hair and gave him a single shake to pull him out of his trance, sending you plummeting to the floor. 

 

You whined, peeling yourself off the wood floor, the taste of dirty pennies stinging your taste buds. You had bit the inside of your mouth and now your face hurt like a bitch but that didn't matter, Simon was still panicking and you were still freaking out and you didn't know how to handle any of this shit. Simon shot up, jumping to his feet before he scrambled over to you grabbing you by the face, and that's when things went completely black. 

You could hear the steady flow of water as the waves rocked underneath you. You were on a boat, but it wasn't just any boat. It was an old fishing boat. Your dads. He sat at the bow of the boat, his line in the water, a smile on his face as the river drifted the both of you down the river. As far as you could see, it was just water surrounded by light. Had Simon killed you?  
“You're not dead, Elliot.” you father said, his voice soft, comforting, soft. “Sorry about the scare, I think I freaked your friend out pretty good.”  
Your breath hitched and you tried to speak, but the only words that came out was some disgusting sob in the form of “sorry”. Your father smiled at you before looking back to the water.  
“It wasn't your fault buddy, you couldn't have prevented it if you tried. There's a bigger force at work out there, and I guess they had different plans. You winced shaking your head.  
“I saw it, I could've called, I could've done something!”  
He grips you firlmly by theshoulders, knocking his pole in the water with a dunk.   
“There was nothing you could do, Elli. Now look at me. You got a job to do alright buddy, you gotta keep your mom and brother safe.”  
You let out another miserable sob, nodding your head, wiping yous face on the sleeve of Simon's shirt. Your father smiled, resting his hands ontop of your head, rustling your hair gently, like he often had. You felt a sudden weight lift off of your shoulders, and with that, you lunged in and hugged your father, wailing into his chest the “I miss you's” and “goodbye's” you had never gotten the chance to relay. A strong hand gripped around your shirt collar and started to tug you upwards, but you refused. You wanted just a little more time, and instead you yanked your interloper in, watching Simon land on the bottom of the boat with a loud thud. He pushed you behind him, ready to protect you at any circumstance. Your father waved him aside, sitting him down and pinning him to the seat with a simple gesture of the hand. It awed you the control and precision he still had with his abilities, something he always seemed to have.   
“D-Dad!” you finally cried in an attempt to protest what had happened.  
“Calm down kid,” he laughed. “I'm not gonna hurt your little boyfriend.”  
You pouted.   
“He's not my boyfriend, I'm not gay, just let him go...”  
The two older men cast you skeptical glances, both doing their best to conceal laughter as Aslan the lion boarded the boat.  
“Oh for fuck's sake...”  
“Welcome to fucking Narnia asshole,” Simon teased. You rolled your eyes, and sat next to him.  
“Fucking wake me up....”  
“You know, son, I don't mind that you're gay,” your father said, causing you to relax a little. “Just tell me what kind of dress I need to pay for at your wedding.”  
You were tense again.  
“I'm not gay!”   
“You willingly slept with me. You are gay.”  
“So did you, why aren't you wearing a dress?”  
“Because I-”  
“Don't need to hear this,” your father chimed in. “Look, just be careful.”   
He turned to Simon.  
“If you let anything happen to my family, I will tear your mind apart.”  
You were taken aback by the sudden cold tone to his voice, and apparently so was Simon. Simon stood, reaching out a hand to shake yours, and you smile softly, your smile fading slightly as they exchange whispers before he returns to you. He ropes an arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple and pulled you out of your dream and back into his and your mothers arms. You were dumbfounded, quiet, trying to find the words to explain what happened, whether it was a dream, a memory- Your thought process is interrupted by something familiar. You were in the middle of the snow, and in the distance, a figure....a familiar figure, and it was disemboweling what looked like a caribou with its bare hands. And then you were back in your room. You take a shaky breath, trying to relay what you saw, all the while Simon's fiddling with something in his pocket. You grabbed him by the shirt, and he quickly brought his hands to your face, absorbing your memories. You were quiet, staring at the man, who now bore a grim expression, one that glinted with the slightest bit of hope.   
Carnew was barely surviving on his own out there, the fucking goblin. You hoped with all of your hope that he would die out there, but you had the faintest feeling that you wouldn't have had the vision if you weren't going to run into him again.  
But holy fuck your powers were back.   
You grinned like a madman, sparking a silent grin in return from Simon.  
“Why are you two smiling, what the hell's going on?”  
You explained to you mom the weird dream trance thing where your dad threatened to blow Simon's head up and she seemed to approve, smiling and nodding her head with your every word. Simon proceeded to say something about a lion and you ended that thought early when you elbowed him in the side because you were not gay. Simon glared at you for a moment before grabbing you by the shirt collar.  
“Say it,” he growled, his eyes narrowed.  
“Say what asshole?” you ask, your nerve slipping as fear washes over your face.  
“Admit you're gay, It was funny at the beginning but now it's getting really fucking irritating.”  
“I'm not trying to be funny! I'm not gay!”  
He pressed you harder against the wall, his hand moving to your throat. You whimpered, his grip tightening slightly. You bit back a small sob as you tried to sort out whatever emotions you had, your thoughts clouded by the fear that your boyfriend was going to strangle you, and he had good right in your mind. You realized that it probably hurt his feelings and embarrassed him whenever you declined to label yourself the g word, denying whatever relationship you had with him. You don't understand where the fear exactly stemmed from, but you know you had to put a stop to it right then and there. He loosened his grip when he saw the fear in your face and instead cupped your face in his palms.   
“Please?” 

 

You were quiet, your eyes focused on that icy blue eye that seemed to have seen more than the other. You took a deep breath. Before you could speak, he presses an unnaturally heavy kiss to your lips, eliciting a small moan. His fingers bore into your scalp and he gripped one of your hands, playing with your fingers. Your free hand bore nails into his t-shirt clad back. He must've gotten dressed while you were in your trance... You yelped as he moved down, biting your neck, shamelessly claiming you as his own in front of your family. You didn't notice the silver ring that was slipped onto your finger until you had broken the kiss and was stroking his face with your thumb, fingertips brushing into his sideburns, and you were rendered speechless. Your mother looked both appalled and excited. You stared at Simon, who wore a cocky smile, one you wanted to tear off and set fire to. 

“Don't take it as a marriage proposal or anything,” he snorted. “I just didn't want anyone thinking you were single, not that I have to worry about that you awkward little mess.” He ruffled your hair and you nailed him in the face with your new ring. He wasn't expecting it, and ended up falling onto the floor, where you took the liberty of stepping on his chest, pinning him there.  
“I'm gay,” you finally admitted, and he grinned at you, levitating you up just long enough to get up, and he drops you on the couch. You hopped up, ready to whack him again, but before you could throw another punch, you were pinned against the wall, his face inches from yours. You leaned up to kiss him, something he dodged with stealth, an excited grin crossing his face.

“I love you.” 

You returned the grin, reaching up and grasping his face, and you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. He liked that. Then you leaned back and headbutted him, a sickening crack breaking the silence in the room.

Good going asshole.  
You broke his fucking nose.


End file.
